Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3)

by Melanie Munton

“Where’s Lexi?” I demanded frantically.

  More coughing wracked his body. “Dimitri chased her upstairs. I hit him, but he’s not down.”

  That motherfucker.

  “Anyone else in the building?” Cris shouted.

  “Two of his men. They were down at one point, but they might have gotten out and ran for it.”

  Bryce stumbled then, falling to one knee. Cris dove to catch Sergei before the man’s head slammed onto the hardwood floor. “Damn, man, you’re hit!”

  It was only then that I noticed the bloodied cloth wrapped around Bryce’s upper thigh, acting as a tourniquet. “I’m all right,” he wheezed in a weak voice.

  “You go with him,” I told Cris. “Call an ambulance. I’m going to get her.”

  “Be careful!”

  Moving toward the spiral staircase, I realized the real danger at this point was smoke inhalation. In most cases, victims of fires usually suffocate from smoke before the flames ever reach them.

  And Lexi had already breathed in too much of this shit.

  I needed to find her immediately.

  One of the rustic-looking rafters on the ceiling had collapsed and fallen onto a high-top table. I had to squeeze my way under the structure, crawling on my hands and knees as the spreading flames raged around me. The heat licked at my flesh, sweat dotted my forehead, and my lungs burned. Every time I tried to suck in a deep breath, I coughed so hard I thought my throat was on fire.

  Faster.

  It felt like an eternity before I finally reached the staircase. I flew up the steps like a madman, my dagger raised and body primed for attack.

  “Lexi!”

  Where the hell was she? There were only so many places to hide up here. There was a storage room and small bathroom down the hallway to the left, though neither had windows. That left my office to the right. The only problem with that was—

  The fire had begun to spread to the second floor.

  And my office was directly in its path.

  “Where are you, legs?” I yelled as loudly as I could. Fires were a lot louder than people gave them credit for. “Answer me!” More coughing.

  My shouts were met with silence.

  Panic shook me to my core.

  She had to be up here, and she had to be alive. I’d let this entire city burn to the ground until I found her.

  “Nico?”

  The voice was so soft, sounding so far off in the distance, I almost didn’t hear it.

  And it came from my office.

  “Lexi!”

  I sprinted inside the room and could barely make her out through the dense smoke. She was huddled against the back wall, knees to her chest, face buried in her oversized sweater, looking so small and scared.

  Christ, this must have been one of her nightmares come to life.

  Trapped inside another burning building. No escape. God knew where her head was in that moment. Back in that orphanage? Trapped beneath that burning plank? I couldn’t stand to see her folded in on herself like this. I would have done anything to erase her fear.

  I squatted down and framed her face in my hands. Her cheeks were smudged with black, her eyes bloodshot and watery. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

  She frowned. “Nico, I—Are you real?” Her question ended in a coughing fit.

  My chest squeezed. Did she think she’d died?

  “I’m real, legs. I’ve got you, okay? But we need to move.”

  She gripped my arms like a lifeline. “Why are you here? Why did you come after me? You need to get out now!”

  What the hell was she talking about? She thought I’d actually leave her in here to burn?

  “We’re both getting out.”

  She nodded, as if galvanizing the courage to stand. When she did, she was steady on her feet, but the way her chest rattled every time she breathed worried me.

  “Good girl.”

  “Oh, God,” she gasped, staring at the door in horror.

  I followed her gaze to see the fire had spread across the door frame, forming a barrier along the threshold to the room.

  “We’re trapped.” She coughed into her sweater, struggling desperately for air.

  “Like hell, we are.” I swung her up into my arms in a bridal carry. “Hang on.”

  At this point, I really had to haul ass. No telling how much the fire had spread downstairs, or if the path I took before was still clear.

  “Put your sweater back over your head and curl into the smallest ball you can.”

  Pushing her face into my chest, I tightened my grip on her and ran straight through the flames.

  Fuck, that burns. Like my actual flesh was being melted off.

  After ensuring that no part of her had been singed, I kept moving, even as my skin felt like it was being scorched. A quick glance down confirmed that I wasn’t on fire, so I didn’t stop until I reached the spiral staircase.

  Once there, I placed Lexi back on her feet and told her, “Go! I’m right behind you.”

  Her eyes caught on something over my shoulder and widened. “Nico, watch out!”

  A maniacal bellow sliced through the air.

  Turning, I dodged Dimitri’s attack at the last second, barely missing the deadly end of his blade. The man was bloodied, his eyes demonic and unhinged, and—

  He was ready to kill.

  Good. Because so the fuck was I.

  I grasped my dagger, he gripped his Bowie knife. Crouching low, we circled each other while flames encircled us. A steady stream of blood trickled from a wound in his side, where I presumed Bryce’s bullet had struck.

  “You’re going to die for fucking up all my plans, Rossetti,” he snarled, his voice scratchy from the smoke.

  I smirked, hefting my dagger’s weight in my palm. “And you’re going to die for going after my wife.”

  “She was never meant to be yours! I’ve wanted to gut you from the moment you stole her from me.”

  I knew he’d always wanted her for himself. I had to end this asshole. Lexi wouldn’t be safe until he was gone.

  “How about you quit talking about killing me and just fucking do it, Novikoff?”

  Like a wild animal, Dimitri launched himself at me with an unnatural howl, sharpened end of the blade first. Lexi screamed as I juked to the right, narrowly missing being stabbed.

  But he didn’t.

  At the last second, my hand shot out and my dagger sliced him across the pec. He grunted as red bloomed on his shirt. When he came at me again, he took me by surprise with a hard left hook just before he swiped with his knife. I felt a sharp burn spread across my forearm and knew he’d cut me. Reacting fast, I drove an uppercut into the fucker’s jaw, followed by two quick jabs. The force of the punches knocked him back several steps, dazing him.

  Glass shattered from inside my office.

  Fuck this.

  Time was running out.

  As Dimitri steadied himself on his feet, I flipped my dagger over to grip the tip of the blade. He gnashed his teeth like a deranged, feral creature and charged.

  Taking aim, I hurled my weapon.

  It hit him square in the chest. Just below the sternum.

  His eyes widened in surprise as he dropped to his knees. He looked down at the hilt sticking out of his chest, his hands lifting as if to pull it out.

  Then he collapsed facedown…and didn’t get back up.

  Refusing to waste any more time on him, I whipped back around to Lexi. “Can you make it down the stairs?”

  She stared at Dimitri’s body, brow furrowed in pain. “I think so.”

  Christ, her voice was too weak. When she broke into another vicious series of coughs, it scared the fuck out of me. Her chest shook with every lungful she grasped onto, but it wouldn’t be enough until I got her outside.

  She’s not suffocating in here.

  The force that suddenly hit me from behind and tackled me to the ground came straight from the flames. Straight from hell.

  “You fucker!” Dimitri r
oared.

  “Nico!”

  How the hell was this bastard still alive? The goddamn dagger was still sticking out of his chest, for shit’s sake.

  Rolling us over, Dimitri pinned me down. My hand was on his throat, holding him off, when he raised his arm into the air, knife clutched tightly in his hand. It started to arc downward, heading straight for my heart, when gunfire erupted around us.

  Dimitri’s arm slumped.

  The knife clattered to the floor.

  Blood poured from the new hole in his chest.

  I pushed him off me and scrambled to my feet as he began to cough up blood. Lexi still had her .357 magnum revolver pointed at him when I turned to her. The rest of her body trembled, but her hand remained steady on that gun.

  He never took his eyes off Lexi as he whispered, “Do zavtra, kotyonok.”

  A tear tracked down her cheek, her lower lip quavering. “Do zavtra…staryy drug.”

  I knew those last two words meant old friend.

  His mouth curved into a smile, and his eyes fell shut. Then his chest stopped moving.

  Dimitri Novikoff was dead.

  I knew the man had once meant a great deal to her, and I couldn’t imagine how hard that had been to do. But I couldn’t feel sympathy for the man who’d threatened the life of the woman I loved.

  When I carefully took the gun from her, she looked relieved to be rid of it. “Told you I wouldn’t hesitate the next time.”

  My heart fractured into pieces at the devastation in her voice.

  “Let’s get out of here, legs.”

  She managed to get down the stairs on her own, but as soon as her feet landed on the first floor, her knees buckled. I caught her just before she hit the ground. Her body was no longer able to hold her upright. All her energy had been going into helping her breathe. My next breath got trapped in my throat when her chest was once again wracked by violent coughing.

  “I’ve got you.”

  The taproom was so clouded with smoke, I couldn’t see anything through the haze. Relying on memory to guide me through, I clutched Lexi tight and—

  A loud groaning sound from above drew my attention.

  Another rafter was about to collapse.

  And if this one fell, it would completely block our path. We’d be trapped.

  I fucking ran for it.

  Using every last ounce of strength in my legs, I lurched our bodies forward as fast as I could. Cris and the others stood at the front doors, frantically waving me toward them.

  “Nico, let’s go! Hurry up!”

  The rafter crashed to the floor the second I made it through the door.

  I placed Lexi gently down on the sidewalk as I collapsed next to her. And I didn’t let go. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to again. I pushed hair out of her face as my arms remained wrapped around her.

  Her eyes were closed.

  “Lexi! Come on, legs, open your eyes for me.”

  Her lids shuttered.

  “Breathe,” I commanded.

  She sucked in a greedy gasp that sent her coughing all over again. She moaned, wincing in pain. If my lungs burned this much, I couldn’t imagine how hers felt.

  “Where’s the goddamned ambulance?” I barked. “She needs oxygen!”

  “Should be here any minute.”

  “Nico?” Lexi rasped, her tiny, delicate hand sliding over mine that cupped her cheek. “You’re really here? I wasn’t dreaming?”

  Shock. She was clearly in shock.

  Did she think she’d been hallucinating? Fuck, she was breaking my heart.

  “I’m here, legs,” I croaked. “You stay here, too, okay? Stay right here with me.”

  Her gaze weakly met mine. “Can’t believe…you risked…your life…for me.”

  When she started coughing again, I thought she would never stop. She was in there too damn long.

  “How could I not when you are my life? Christ, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.”

  Her mouth twitched in the makings of a smile, but it never took hold. “Hurts to…breathe.”

  My chest tightened so painfully it felt like it was in a vice. “I know it does. But help is almost here. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

  Her shaking hand struggled to reach my face, so I lowered it until our foreheads were pressed together. Her cold fingers—why is she cold when she was just inside a burning building?—brushed against my beard.

  “You…saved me.”

  “And you saved me back. In all ways, Lexi.”

  More coughing, more gasping for air. God, why couldn’t I breathe for her?

  “My…hero. Told you…that you were. ‘s why I…love…you.”

  I rocked her back and forth, needing to hear those words and not wanting to hear them at the same time. Because if she thought those were going to be the last ones she ever spoke to me, she was so fucking wrong.

  “Lexi…I love you, too. So goddamn much.” Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “That’s why you can’t leave me, okay? You have to keep talking.”

  Wheeze. “I’m…pre…” Wheeze. “Preg…nant…Nico.”

  “I know, legs.” My hand drifted down to her belly without me telling it to. “And you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

  She frowned, whether in pain or surprise I couldn’t tell. “Real…ly?”

  “Yes. I already love it as much as I love its mother. I want to keep both of you forever. Please let me.”

  A smile spread across her mouth as her eyes slowly closed. “O…kay.”

  Her hand fell from my face.

  I stopped breathing.

  “Lexi?” I lightly shook her, trying to rouse her. “You have to stay strong for me. You hear me? Stay strong for our baby.”

  I was begging—pleading—like I never had before.

  “I’m…sorry.” Wheeze. “I…tried.” Wheeze. “Love…you.”

  “Don’t you leave me! Please, please, don’t leave me.”

  Then there were no more wheezes.

  On that sidewalk, as I held my pregnant wife, I cried for the first time in ten years.

  One month later

  I didn’t leave him.

  As long as I lived, I’d never forget Nico’s voice begging me to stay with him and to be strong for our baby as he choked on his own tears. It had kept me there on that sidewalk, anchoring me in the moment instead of allowing me to drift off like my body had so badly wanted to.

  Luckily, though, I’d merely suffered from a concussion and severe smoke inhalation, which I’d recovered from after a few days in the hospital. The doctor had been ready to release me after the second night, but Nico had insisted that my vitals, as well as our baby’s, needed to be monitored for one more.

  A baby that he wanted.

  A baby he was happy about. Thrilled about.

  A baby that—thank God—was healthy and progressing normally.

  Nico had some third degree burns on his back, somewhat resembling mine, that had been healing well. As much as I hated that he’d suffered because of me, he didn’t mind his new burn scars.

  “If I hadn’t known you were my match before I’d gotten those burns,” he’d said once the bandages were off, “I’d have absolutely no doubt now. Fate’s trying to tell us something, legs. We were made for each other.”

  I stared across the small rowboat at my husband, sighing with more pleasure and contentment than any person had a right to feel. In his boardshorts and lightweight, linen button-up that he’d never bothered to button, he was a marvel of male perfection. Hair pulled back in his signature man bun and bronze tan on display, I’d never seen him look so carefree, so hopeful.

  So happy.

  It was such a stark contrast from the day I met him, I almost laughed. In his ridiculously expensive three-piece Italian suit and perpetual scowl on his rugged face, he hadn’t looked anything but miserable back then. Honestly, Nico had shaved a good ten years off his life over the past month. Now, he wore a permanent glow and affected a relaxe
d demeanor. His practiced laughs and tight smiles were things of the past. Everything about him was heartfelt and genuine now.

  He was eager to learn how to cook, often humming some song to himself as he concentrated on a recipe. He was…playful. Which, according to his family, was Nico’s true personality coming back out. During a conversation I had with Cris one night, he’d divulged that Nico had been losing more and more of himself over the years…until he met me.

  He suddenly looked up from his rowing to flash me that wide, toothy smile that was coming naturally and often these days.

  I was a goner.

  “How’s the nausea?” he asked.

  I barely caught the question. I was too distracted by the way his forearms tightened and rippled as he worked the oars through the waters of the Adriatic Sea. The boat rocked against the gentle waves as the Mediterranean sun beat down on our heads. With the aqua waters beneath us, the rugged coastline of the island of Capri behind us, and the vast ocean spread out before us, it was an incandescent sight to behold.

  “Um.”

  I blinked, forcing myself to focus on something other than my raging hormones. Unsurprisingly, my husband had been more than accommodating of this particular pregnancy symptom.

  “Better. I think he might like the water as much as I do.”

  We didn’t know if it was a boy or girl yet. I’d just automatically started referring to the baby as a he because it felt wrong.

  Nico chuckled. “Well, considering the fact that I knocked you up the first time I ever got inside you, I’d say I’ve got some strong swimmers. We might have a little Michael Phelps on our hands.”

  I laughed loudly, heartily.

  Because these days, I actually could.

  Just when I’d thought I couldn’t possibly love him more, Nico had to go and get baby fever so high it was off the bloody thermometer.

  He’d panicked in the very beginning, knowing next to nothing about babies. But he’d quickly shucked that attitude and bought up every book ever written on the subject of babies and parenting. Every day, he told me to buy up more of whatever I thought we needed for the nursery, saying there was “absolutely nothing” he’d deny me or our child. He’d even been watching YouTube videos on how to properly swaddle a newborn and practicing on a baby doll that he’d bought. I think he was secretly hoping it was a girl.